


The Nanny

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [8]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: 1840s London, Belonging, Class Differences, Friendship, Gen, Poor Amos, Redemption, Servants, Serving Classes, Swearing, Victorian Philanthropy, but maybe not...?, his worst nightmare!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: Mr Turton's worst nightmare comes true!  Or does it?-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Nanny

It wasn't exactly how he'd thought he'd be occupying his afternoon off. He'd planned on a walk around the park, a pleasant afternoon of people watching and noting any new flowers, followed by a nice cup of tea and a generous slice of Mrs Brown's freshly baked cake. But never in his wildest gin-fueled dreams could he have imagined exactly how he would be spending his free afternoon that day…

-

Mrs Jones, the nanny, had come rushing into the kitchen, the young master and mistress hanging from each of her hands.

"Oh, Mr Turton! Is Mrs B not here?" she asked as she turned her head this way and that, peering into the pantry, looking around the kitchen wildly.

"Her and Daisy have gone out to visit Mrs Brown's sister on their afternoon off, Mrs Jones," he answered.

"Oh…" she frowned. "Er, maybe you could help, Mr Turton? I wouldn't normally ask, but it's an emergency!"

He could see that her face was fraught with worry, her eyes were red rimmed, and her hair wasn't its usual perfectly placed perfection.

"Emergency?" he asked.

"Oh! Yes! A peeler has just been round to say that My Henry's been caught up in an accident over on Cromwell Road. He's not hurt, but I need to go and fetch him from the police station over in Kensington as he's shaken up somewhat. But I can't bring these two youngsters. I was hoping that Mrs B would be here…" She looked at him, her tear-filled eyes pleaded with him to accept.

"Leave them with me, Mrs Jones. You go off and see to your husband," he sighed. He'd not really been left with any real choice, except to say yes.

"Oh thank you so much, Mr Turton! I really can't thank you enough!" she exclaimed. "They've just had lunch, and Mrs B or the Mistress should be back by the time it's their tea at four."

She turned to the two children. "You behave for Mr Turton now! Any naughtiness and you know what will happen?"

"Yes, Nanny Jones. Sprouts!" they said back to her, scrunching their faces up and sticking out their tongues out in disgust.

"Yes! Best behaviour or you two will have sprouts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!" she wagged her finger at the two young children.

"Thank you, Mr Turton," she repeated, looking up at him, "I'll be back as soon as I can!"

He nodded and all three of them watched her as she scurried hastily out of the door. He turned back to the two children and sighed. _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

He noticed that the two children were both wearing coats and hats.

_I need to come up with a plan to survive this afternoon with my sanity_ _intact!_ Mr Turton's keen mind raced through several options.

"Um, Edmund and Lucy, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr Turton," the young boy answered.

"Were you on your way out somewhere, before Nanny had to leave?"

"Yes, Mr Turton. We were going to Hyde Park to feed the ducks," he pointed to a small bundle held together by a knotted hankie. "I've saved the crusts from my lunch 'specially to feed them," he announced, hoisting the small parcel aloft proudly.

Mr Turton eventually settled on a plan that he thought would cause the least harm to them or his lucidity.

"Let's see if there's some more bread to feed them with, shall we?" Mrs Brown would complain at the waste of her fresh bread and at being forced to make some more. _It's her own bloody fault for not being here and landing me in this damn situation!_

He told the children to wait there and rushed off to grab a satchel from his room. He filled it with a pilfered loaf of bread, two apples, and a bottle of beer. And off they went!

He'd held their hands, knowing from his previous observations as he walked around the park, that he needed to keep a tight hold of them. He felt so very self-conscious as they walked along, not really knowing what to do or say. He kept a sharp lookout as they continued along on their journey, as he _really_ did not want to bump into anyone that he knew. It was only a fifteen-minute walk to the park, but it felt like the lifespan of Methuselah. He glanced down to check on his two small charges. _They seem content. More so than me right now!_ Young Lucy clasped his hand tightly and skipped along happily, singing to herself. Edmund trotted along at his side. Although, he observed a frown developing on the young boy’s small face – his little nose and brows scrunched up.

_So far, so good_ he thought. But that peace all changed when the young boy looked up at him, opened his mouth, and started with his questions…

How old are you? – Old enough. _Too old for this nonsense._

Where the horses really big in the Hussars? – What? Oh. Yes. The size of a small elephant!

Where do you keep your sword? – Under my bed.

What do butlers actually do? – Butlering, of course.

Is it true you can see in the dark? – Of course.

Do you smoke a pipe? – What?

All old men smoke pipes. – I'm not old!

So do you smoke a pipe? – No, I do not! And I'm not old!

Have you met a Frenchman? – Yes, also several Germans, a Spaniard and some Portuguese.

Do you know how to row a boat? – What? No, I've never had the opportunity to learn, not being a sailor.

Can you play the piano? – No.

Have you seen a ghost? – Maybe.

In our house? – Might have. I did hear some strange noises around the upstairs corridors, outside the bedrooms, late one night.

Oh! Down at the end...? – Possibly.

(Sharp intake of breath from child. Pause, then the barrage continued.)

Can you speak another language? – Oui.

What's your favourite food? – Gin.

Mother says that gin makes people do odd things, is that true? – Yes, but not always. _I haven't had any gin today, yet here I am, doing something decidedly odd!_ (He really, really wished he had a LARGE bottle of gin right now.)

Is it true that you know how to Box? – Yes. _What had the child heard?_

Can you teach me? – You need to speak to your mother first.

_Dear Lord! Will the wretched child never bloody shut up???_

Thankfully, they had arrived at the Serpentine, so that put paid to any further interrogations. He split the bread between them, helping Lucy pull her part of the loaf into pieces small enough so as not to choke the poor ducks. He had to intervene quickly to stop her just hurling the whole half loaf at the unfortunate birds!

He watched as they became surrounded by ducks. The happy birds waddled out of the water, eager for the food, the braver ones even reaching up to take bread from their fingers. He showed them how to hold the bread so they wouldn't get their fingers nipped. The children's giggling and laughing as the ducks patted and slapped their small feet all around them, was strangely endearing. _Don't go getting all soft now!_ he warned himself.

Once the bread was gone, he ushered them over to his favourite bench. It was situated under a large cherry tree which was in full spring bloom. It had turned the bench into something resembling a snowy winter scene. The bench was also situated on a high spot beside the main path that led through the park; the view from there was most excellent. Mr Turton brushed the fallen blossoms from the bench and sat, the children copied. He reached into the satchel and handed each of them an apple. He got his beer bottle out and downed half of it. Dutch courage.

"What do we do now?" asked Edmund.

"Ah, now. There is a most interesting game that I play whenever I sit here," he started, hoping the next part of his plan would go as well as the first. _Not like I have any other options,_ he thought.

"Oh!" said Edmund, "what's it called?"

"It's called the 'guess-who-everyone-is-and-what-they-do' game," he said.

"For example," he started, taking another drink, "that lady there is the most excellent Lady McDonaldson-Smyth who owns several pet Labradors." The lady in question was being tugged along by several large black dogs, looking like a large wagon being hauled along by a herd of small ponies.

"She has, in fact, trained them to count and to do all her accounting," he said, looking at their small faces for a reaction. Lucy giggled and Edmund frowned. _Only a partial success, then?_ he thought.

"Maybe they could do my mathematics lessons for me?" he looked up at Mr Turton hopefully.

"Possibly…" Mr Turton replied. _Ah, it worked! Thank God!_ "Your turn, Master Edward," he pointed at an elderly gentleman who sported a truly magnificent set of side whiskers and a long grey mustache that curled up at the tips.

The young boy's face was creased up with concentration, but it suddenly broke into a wide grin.

"Ah! It's Mr Hairington McBeard and he uses his most excellent whiskers to hide trained fleas in. He uses them to pickpocket people. I read in my encyclopedia that a flea can lift 160,000 its own body weight," he declared with a smug, triumphant smile.

Mr Turton clapped, "Well done, young Sir! You've got the idea now!"

They carried on like this, inventing stupid names and occupations, until his beer was finished, and his pocket watch told him that it was half past three and definitely time to head back.

-

They ambled back to the house, pausing several times as Mr Turton pointed out all the different flowers to his young charges. Lucy took a particular interest in this, her brow furrowed, and her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on trying to remember and repeat back to Mr Turton the more complicated names. Edward was more interested in seeking out any bugs he could find on the flowers and also carried on playing 'guess-who-everyone-is-and-what-they-do' game. They had to scurry away sharply as Edward decided to announce in a rather loud voice that one particular lady's face matched that of her pet spaniel. Mr Turton hastily ushered them along, accompanied by Edward's protests of “…but they DID match! She looked just like her funny little dog!” Once they were out of earshot, he bent down and confessed to them both that he agreed with Edward's assessment. This caused the two youngsters to giggle which in turn caused him to smile.

He happily admitted to himself that what he thought would be an onerous chore had actually turned out to not be quite as bad as he'd expected. The two children were very well behaved, if a little mischievous and curious, but he supposed that neither of those were bad traits. He conceded that, yes, today wasn't as relaxing as his usual Sunday stroll, but it was definitely not the torturous activity he'd nervously anticipated.

"Oh, what well behaved children you have, Sir! You must be so proud of them?" A pair of matronly ladies stopped and purloined Mr Turton as the party of three paused to examine a rather delightful hydrangea.

"What? Oh… Er… Yes. Thank you…?" he answered, unsure of what to reply to them.

"Oh yes! It's not often you see a father taking such a keen interest in their children, to take them out by himself," one said to him. _Father??? Time to go!_

"Er… Thank you… Excuse me, ladies, time to go children," he ushered the two away as quickly as he could before he was presented with any more questions… Or was forced to think of any answers to those damnable questions!

-

Mrs Morgan was waiting at the front door for them as they returned. Mr Turton took a quick glance at his watch. _Oh... Five o'clock. Bugger!_ They had completely lost track of time on their circuitous route back to their house. Mrs Morgan wore a frown that boded none of them well.

"Uh-oh," Edward whispered to him, "Mummy's got her serious face on!"

Mr Turton led the children up the steps to the house.

"Mr Turton!" Mrs Morgan exclaimed as they met her at the doorway, "where have you been? The children's tea was an hour ago!"

"Sorry, Ma'am. We went to the park. I'm afraid it's all my fault for losing track of the time," he explained.

The three-strong guilty party shuffled into the house and stopped in the hallway, all lined up, ready to receive their reprimands. But before Mrs Morgan could speak, Lucy spoke up:

"We saw lots of flowers mummy! A high-drain-ger-o-ear and a gerbil-oh-ah," little Lucy announced.

"And a man with fleas in his mustache and a lady who looked just like her spaniel!" added Edward.

Mr Turton managed to stifle his snigger only semi-successfully. This garnered an amused look from Mrs Morgan. Her lips twitched; the escaped smile completely spoiled her previous stern frown. But her face altered again, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him.

She turned towards her children now.

“Did you have a good time out, my loves?" she asked them.

"Yes, mummy!"

"Yes, indeed, mummy!"

"Well now. I'm sure Mr Turton has plenty of duties to be catching up on. Come on, children, say thank you to him for looking after you today before you go and have your _late_ tea," she said.

"Thank you kindly, Mr Turton," her smile signaled that he had been forgiven. _A reprieve?_ he thought. But her happy smile changed, one side of her face lifted higher than the other, altering the smile to a knowing smirk. _Oh dear..._

"You'll have to take charge of them more often, Mr Turton. Maybe next Sunday? Would you like that, children?"

"Yes, mummy!"

"Oh, yes please!"

Mr Turton's mouth hung open and he froze. _What have I done?_ Mrs Morgan ushered the children up the hallway towards the stairs, sending one final victorious smirk over her shoulder towards Mr Turton.

_Bloody buggering hell!_ he thought.


End file.
